


Golden Hour

by NegansOtherWife



Series: Tumblr Requests [1]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 18:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15200489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegansOtherWife/pseuds/NegansOtherWife
Summary: The world was in transition, the point of the day when the sun was gone and the moon was chasing her skirt tails. It was golden hour.





	Golden Hour

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little slow to update my AO3 with the Tumblr requests I've had in the past. If you haven't read this one, you're in for a treat. x
> 
> My Tumblr: https://negansaysyouearnwhatyoutake.tumblr.com

There was something to be said about Twilight. A sea of blue, giving way to soft shades of purple and orange as the last rays of the day painted everything in its path a golden hue.

It was golden hour.

The world was in transition, the point of the day when the sun was gone and the moon was chasing her skirt tails. The impact it had on the earth was almost indescribable like the sky paused and time dripped slower. A beautiful limbo. You’d found yourself searching often for the moments in life like this but they’d been few and far apart.

The tall grass tickling the bare skin of your calves as you catch your breath. The pounding tempo of your heart against your ribcage. Then, the sound of a dragonfly zipping past your ear as the laughing of small children tinge the air with their innocence.

Serenity.

“Hello, dear wife.” His unceasing grip catches you in its snare, cupping a hip before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the warmed skin of your shoulder.

“Negan!” You look up only for a moment but it’s enough for Malcolm to quickly maneuver the ball from beneath your foot. The small thumping of feet upon the earth sounds as they go hurtling down the small field and after the ball. “Oh shoot! I was so close to scoring a point, too.” He kisses the pout, signaling a look that questions your whereabouts.

The remaining light that peeks from beyond the parted clouds catches his irises so that they shimmer in the dying light. You’re temporarily stunned by his casual beauty.

“I’m playing soccer, silly.” You say, slightly breathless. The thumping in your chest renews, only for a completely different reason when he pulls you closer.

He observes you in the twilight. Flower crown atop your head askew, bare feet muddied, and the floral sundress he’d gifted you several days ago tied at the knee. A wood nymph that’d fallen from her perch, he’d captured you and never loosened his grip. You always managed to surprise him. Whether it was from your random acts of kindness or the close relations you kept with his people, he never knew what to expect each time he came home. He’d been searching for you. Just having come back from a run and been surprised to find you beneath the setting rays.

“Soccer? You’re young as it, little wife. We wouldn’t want someone mistaking you for their kid and accidentally taking you home, would we?” He teases, gathering you into his arms. The ball goes whizzing past his feet and just like that you’re both amid a small stampede. “I’d be up _shit_ creek, for sure.” He hums, nuzzling the soft skin of your cheek. You smell of something floral and sweat, an intoxicating combination.

The reaction he’d wanted from you is instantaneous. A furrowed brow and the slight twitch of your nose as you pull back. In all your life, you’d never met someone so vulgar. “Tanya was picking on me, Negan! She said I was young enough to be playing with the ‘brats’ outside. So you know what, I said, why not. They make for better conversation anyway.”

As if to prove your point, the small gaggle of children beckons you back to the game. “I think I’ll live here,” You’re only partially joking. At nineteen, you were closer in age to the factory’s kids in comparison to his other wives.

“Come on, Y/N!” Sophie, a small slip of a girl and barely taller than your knees, whizzes past you equally as muddy. Reminding you once more, “We’re supposed to be winning against the stinky boys.”

“Stinky boys?” He teases, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He’s been eyeing it this entire time, the rebellious strand that had miraculously escaped the bun atop year head.

“Wan’a show me what you got?” You’re not usually so bold, maybe its the sunlight. Or maybe its the way he looks at you, that subtle emotion that catches the sun. He could never tell you no. He knew it and you knew it, too.

“Think I’m a little too old for this shit.” He shrugs off his leather jacket, tossing it in the grass.

“Remember there are little ears around.” You briefly chastise, before taunting, “Can’t keep up?”

“I didn’t say that,” Then he’s off, long strides that quickly carry him across the makeshift field.  

“Cheater,” You chant, running after him as you attempt to wrestle the ball from beneath his feet.

By the time the sun has fully set, barely more light then the dying embers of a campfire, you’re damp with sweat and aching from exertion.

“You really do stink,” Making a spectacle of plugging your nose, the kids around you squeal with laughter. Both teams are tied by Sophie’s standards. She’s only five years old and can count up to six so your slightly iffy. Either way, you’d come to see a different side of Negan. A part that you loved as much as the others. He’d been so patient and gentle with the kids, and up until now, you’d thought that kind of behavior from his was only reserved for you.

“Kick her ass!” One of the older boys screams from somewhere behind your back.

“I wonder where he learned that from, huh?” Negan cocks his brow in response before lining up his shot for the winning kick. You shift with him and tell Delilah to adjust her stance. She moves an inch to the left and coming from a five-year-old, its progress.

“One,” He begins to count.

“You’re going down!” What he’s counting, you’re unsure of.

“Two.”

“Negan, what—!” A protest is poised on your lips. He’d dragged this out long enough.

“Get her!” He goes charging for Delilah, throwing her over his shoulder as he juggles the ball toward the goal. The sound of cheering is defying but you’re too caught up in the solid pound of flesh that is currently barreling towards you.

“Umph!” You land with a muted thud and what can only be the weight of a two-year-old, bears down onto your stomach. Dawson waves, offering you a gummy smile. “Oh, you little cheater. Not fair!” He throws his head back and lets out peals of laughter as you tickle his stomach.

“Alright, you little ankle biter. You’re squishing my wife.” Negan lifts Dawson and flips him over his shoulder. He’s got Sophie in his other hand and for a moment you can’t help but picture that they’re your kids.

The sudden clanging of a bell signals the ending of the workday and mutual cheers for dinner ring out as the kids begin to head back to the factory.

“Bye, Y/N. You’ll come to our tea party tomorrow, right?” Sophie questions as Negan puts her down.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, ladies!” You cheer, bending down to give several of the girls a hug.

“You’re so silly!” She tugs at your skirt until you bend at the waist so that she can whisper into your ear.

“Negan, come here.” You order after listening to Sophie’s hushed request. When he’s close enough you hoist Sophie into your arms so that she can place a quick peck on his cheek. When you set her down, she scurries off with the rest of the herd. “Someone has a crush on you.” He looks bashful for a moment before he schools his features, sauntering over to where his leather jacket lays discarded in the grass.

“Nice night.” He finally comments.

The moon is in full force, illuminating the field in a soft glow.

“It doesn’t have to be over. Come away with me?” Taking his arm you lead him around the side of the factory and into the rows of corn that the Sanctuary’s garden grows. The small clearing amid the field is just how you’d left it. A thick quilt, several pillows, and a book.

You watch silently as Negan takes in your setup before kicking off his shoes and sinking onto the plush duvet. “Tanya’s that bad?” He looks suddenly thoughtful.

You follow suit, “She can be persistent. It’s whatever, I like to be alone with my thoughts sometimes and look up at the sky.” You answer, looking up at the stars as you do so.

He’s staring at you. You come a little closer when he beckons you forth, standing between his parted legs.

“You didn’t get a ‘welcome home’ kiss.” You remind him, as was your usual greeting. The warmth of his hands chases away the chill in the air as they walk the length of your legs, tugging at the lace of your panties. “What are you doing?”

He answers simply. “Getting my kiss.”

“Negan,” Your tone is slightly chastising as he tosses it somewhere behind him, “what if someone finds that?” You hiss.

“Then they know I fucked my wife.” He tosses your right leg his shoulder as he pulls you closer.

“Making love,” You correct breathlessly. The firm, wet pressure of Negan’s tongue invades your sex as he drags the flat top across your folds.

“Oh, Negan.” Wiggling your hips you push back onto his moving tongue, grabbing his shoulders for balance as he begins to work his tongue harder against your folds.

“Good?” He questions, only its a little muffled from his current position.

“Mmm, yes.” You sigh, running your hands through his hair. “Feels so good.”

You quite enjoy what he does to you, the man’s talent could never be disputed. But it’s the small things that tip you over the edge, the small grunting sounds that slip from his lips as his tongue delves further down your channel. The scrumptious moans that vibrate your wet flesh. It’s maddening and soon afterward the heat in your belly boils over. He consumes every drop with a deep groan. “So sweet.” He kisses your inner thigh in a quick succession before nuzzling the skin.

“Oh, I need you inside me,” You push him away when you become too sensitive and without a moment’s hesitation, whip your dress over your head. You’re completely bare in the moonlight, “now, please.” You’ve never been this earnest.

“Are you going to take it, little wife?” He’s taunting you, fully expecting you to request that he take the lead. As the youngest wife, you’d come into the fold with the least experience. You’d heard of sex toys and threesomes but try as you might that just didn’t appeal to you. There was nothing wrong with vanilla sex, not if the participants had ample chemistry between them. It could never get old. Still, Tanya’s taunts stick to your dampened skin.

Prim and proper. You were nothing of the sort.

You’d show her.

“I’m on top,” Deftly slipping his belt from the loops of his jeans, you tug the material past his hips so that his erection springs forth.

His brow lifts. You’ve never been on top.

“Need help?” The uncertainty rolls off you in waves as you straddle his hips.

“No, no, I’ve got this.” He laces his fingers behind his head and settles back to watch the spectacle you must be. A teasing smirk before his tongue peeks out to moisten the skin of his lips as he eyes your naked breasts. “I want to show you,” You sigh, raising up onto your knees until he’s poised at your entrance, “show you that I’m not so uptight.” 

An expletive falls from his lips as you begin to sink down onto his length without any further warning. It’s a welcomed pain as he stretches you and instinctively you know to roll your hips, taking the welcomed intrusion deeper into your aching sex. It’s never felt like this before. He’s hitting places inside you that you hadn’t known existed and could give you this kind of pleasure.

“Jesus, fuck,” He ceases your hips in a tight grip, grinding your pelvis together when he nudges a particularly sensitive spot inside you. You have no choice but to take it, crying out as your back arches against his bucking hips. “Touch your breasts, sweetheart, give me a show.” He grunts, watching as they bounce uninhibited in the moon’s light.

You do as he says, tugging at the tips of your breasts before rolling them between trembling fingers buds. How does he do this? How does he know exactly what you always need? The shockwaves of pleasure rip through your spine as you dissolve into an earth-shattering orgasm. Collapsing breathlessly onto his clothed chest, you’re only partially aware when he releases into your clenching walls.

“Fuck, that was good.” He sighs, relaxing back against the pillows.

“Stop cursing.” You aim to smack his chest but he catches it, placing a kiss on your inner wrist.

“You know I love you the way you are, right? Your soul is evergreen. I don’t want you changing that just because the other wives give you a hard time.” He smooths a hand down your bare back, placing a kiss at your damp hairline and like clockwork, the sounds of the outside world penetrate your bubble. The hooting of owls and muffled footsteps of Earth’s creatures nearby lull you into a relaxed state. If only you could lay here with him forever.

“I know. I love you, always.” Pressing a soft kiss to his heartbeat, you let your lips rest there, embracing his soul for a moment. “Can we stay here?” It’s impractical, you know. Still, it doesn’t hurt to ask.

“For as long as you want.” He pulls you tighter against his frame, stealing a kiss as he whispers everything he loves about you. Inside and out.

Golden. You’re absolutely golden.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos make me write better and faster! I just love hearing what you guys have to say. x


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